


No Road to the Future

by Jake_the_space_cat



Series: A Creature of Pride (transmasc!Kim AU) [7]
Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Aging, Attraction, Bonding, Character Study, Depression, Gen, Introspection, M/M, Melancholy, OT3, Post-Canon, Pre-OT3, Pre-Relationship, Precinct 41 - Freeform, Smoke Break, Smoking, Spoilers, Trans Character, Trans Kim Kitsuragi, Trans Male Character, Transmasc, guys on balconies smoking because that's what this fandom does, how the hell do you tag just finding someone attractive, nascent attraction, scene, the return, trans!Kim Kitsuragi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jake_the_space_cat/pseuds/Jake_the_space_cat
Summary: Kim and Jean are talking on one of those balconies Revachol buildings are required to have (the kind where you automatically look cool but in a low-key depressed way) before wrapping up for the day. Jean's brought up the Return and why he thinks C Wing's all thinking about it.
Relationships: Harry Du Bois & Kim Kitsuragi, Harry Du Bois & Kim Kitsuragi & Jean Vicquemare, Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi, Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi/Jean Vicquemare, Kim Kitsuragi & Jean Vicquemare, Kim Kitsuragi/Jean Vicquemare
Series: A Creature of Pride (transmasc!Kim AU) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160411
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	No Road to the Future

Vicquemare shifts in the rusting metal chair. Flicks his cigarette into the darkness. "It's because we're old." Moments after the cigarette hits the ground, his hands are already moving. He chafes his forearm with one hand, repeatedly, rucking up his sleeve before tugging it back into place. It isn’t a cold night. The gesture is compulsive.

Kim raises his eyebrows, question implicit. Old? He’s not disagreeing. Just inviting the other officer to explain.

Vicquemare’s hands keep moving. Fingers rub down under his collar, over the back of his shoulder, back up along his neck, across his jawline, over his cheeks and cheekbones. He’s searching for rough spots. It’s a tic, though not one that’s common in the RCM. It’s surprising he’s managed to keep it; constantly restless hands and a face full of self-inflicted sores don’t say ‘here’s a man in control.’ “Yeah. A bunch of hopeless corpses. Waiting around in our rocking chairs with our dying dreams, thinking, maybe it’ll change. Maybe I’m not pushing middle age, maybe it’s not all a downhill slide to death now, maybe someone else will finally get things started, get the world up and running. Maybe I’ll have a chance.”

“To run _with_ it.” It’s a statement, not a question. Kim knows what the detective means.

“Yeah.” Vicquemare runs his hands down his face. “That fucking hope. It kills me. It absolutely kills me.”

Kim drops his own spent cigarette to the ground and carefully rubs out the last embers. “So we don’t hope. We wait and see.” 

Jean scoffs, goes for a second cigarette. “Just wait and see, he says. For a citywide bloodbath.”

Kim adjusts his glasses, almost shifts into his customary stance, hands behind his back. He catches himself. Harry’s commented on this, and so has Minot. The stiff posture, formal to the point of defiance. There’s no need for that around colleagues, they’ve told him. So he crosses his arms and leans back against the railing. The action is awkward, clearly deliberate. He can feel its obviousness. “We can’t know if that’s what it will be. None of us know what’s coming. If you anticipate--if you hope--” He falters, looking for the words. Embarrassed. He knows anticipation is his sin, just called by another word: pride. _You think you’re smart enough to know where the universe is going. You think you’ve pushed all of the emotions to the side, all of the clutter; you’re practical, you’re focused, you’re the one who sees the details of reality and doesn't embellish, doesn't project. You accept the mundanity of things, of simple cause and effect, and that gives you control. That makes you better than the others. It's impossible for you to get carried away._

He uncrosses his arms, removes his glasses, wipes down the lenses. He doesn’t look down; that would make the moment of vulnerability too obvious. But momentary blindness, the world reduced to colors, can be a useful shield. “It builds a reality in the mind. It runs by the rules we understand, and _we_ make those rules. We build hope on the only thing we have to build on. The past." He sighs. "Our own experiences. Maybe there really is something--” He coughs, clears his throat. Going out on a philosophical limb like this is risky. “--something new coming. We need to be able to see it in the moment, or we won’t see it at all.”

Vicquemare leans forward, elbow on a knee, cigarette in hand. “That’s profound, Kitsuragi. Du Bois and his school of pseudo-highbrow bullshit rubbing off on you?”

Kim looks away. There’s that almost-blush again. He can feel it. It happens too often at Precinct 41. Primarily around Harry and Jean. It’s always best not to think about it. He shrugs and puts his glasses back on. “Could be. He’s hard to resist.” _Oh, shit. Shit, did you really did just phrase that_ that _way?_ Kim almost chokes. He catches himself just in time.

Jean doesn’t seem to notice. Too wrapped up in his own thoughts, and thank everything in the world for that. He drops the remains of his cigarette, takes the time to rub it out with a heel this time, not bothering to get up. “Yeah.” He leans further forward, both hands on his knees now. Runs his hands through his hair. “Yeah. Fuck hope.”

Kim remains leaning against the railing, watching Jean. How lost is this man? How much can he be relied on? He’s still not sure.

Jean sighs, and gets up from the chair. “Maybe you’re right, Kitsuragi.” He shoves the chair back against the wall with one knee. It screeches as it scrapes over the concrete. “Fuck. I’m out. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, detective.”

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't show up in the story--I just used it as a framing device for getting media res for myself--but in this universe, Kim's transmasc. Jean pulled Kim out onto the balcony late, in a time and part of the building where no one else is around, to let him know he's either seen Kim's transfer paperwork himself--or whatever sort of background check/ID info you'd have with a transfer--or the upper brass let him know that (at least some) of Kim's official papers still read afab. (I figure Revachol's paperwork system is still a bit post-colonial/post-invasion and disorganized; you can probably get some offices and bureaus to change paperwork, likely with money or favors from people with influence or just by being annoying and persistent enough, but others not, and most of the offices likely don't talk to each other/coordinate records all that well, anyway.)
> 
> Jean lets Kim know he's not going to tell anyone, and it's cool, essentially. Kim's like, shrug, thanks, fine. Then they're just stuck there, thinking and smoking. Jean was kind of expecting more than that, so he picks a depressing subject to talk about to fill the silence, because of course he does.
> 
> This isn't important, but hey. I'm the boss of these notes. YOLO.


End file.
